21 February 2008

“It was Don Delillo, whiskey, meAnd a blinking midnight clockSpeakers on a TV standJust a turntable to watchAnd the smoke came out our mouthsOn all those hooded sweatshirt walksWe were a stroke of luckWe were a goldmine and they gutted us

And from the sidelinesYou see me runUntil I’m out of breathLiving the good lifeI left for deadThe sorrowful midwestWell, I did my bestTo keep my head

It was grass stained jeans and incompletesAnd a girl from class to touchBut you think about yourself too muchAnd you ruin who you loveWell, all these claims at consciousnessMy stray dog freedomLet’s have a nice clean cutLike a bag we buy and divvy up

And from the sidelinesI see you runUntil you're out of breath.And all those white lines that sped us upWe hurry to our deathWell, I lagged behindSo you got ahead”